


Something That Suddenly Feels Safer, Less Scary

by Emby_M



Series: One Party, Three Views [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Corsetry, Drag, Headcanon-heavy, Lavish Parties, M/M, Misunderstandings, Two Idiots fall in love while one's boyfriend looks on in amusement, You're just going to have to read the notes on this one for the premise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 18:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emby_M/pseuds/Emby_M
Summary: "If Dutch was there -- broad and charming, with his mouth and those eyes that took in everything, those sturdy hips, those forearms -- drinking champagne off his skin..."-Hosea accidentally invites Dutch to a scandalous afterparty, and has to perform a forfeit when he un-invites him.Part of a series of three. Read the others for Trelawny and Dutch's points of view.





	Something That Suddenly Feels Safer, Less Scary

**Author's Note:**

> The Premise:  
> See "Your Money or Your Life" for the full meeting backstory (the third version, after the page break).  
> \- Hosea and Dutch have been exceedingly close since their first meeting, despite Dutch's engagement to Susan Grimshaw and Hosea's continuing relationship with Josiah Trelawny & his marriage to Bessie Matthews.  
> \- Bessie is 100% a lesbian, and they beard for each other. She has a lover named Sarah, who looks a lot like Hosea. (Sarah and Hosea aren't related, even though people think they are.)  
> \- The three of them are quite close, and live together.  
> \- Bessie's nickname for Hosea is "Shea" (said "Shay").  
> \- Hosea and Bessie plan parties for the LGBTQ community where they live. The community is surprisingly extensive.  
> \- Josiah and Susan both know Dutch is bi/pansexual, but neither Hosea nor Dutch know. Dutch thinks everyone's equally attracted to all genders.  
> \- "Straight" isn't a period accurate term, but it would kill me to use "normal" or "typical" instead.  
> \- Trelawny and Hosea are pretty sexually active (and adventurous, at that) and aren't particularly monogamous. Their relationship is low-key and open, but very nice for them.  
> \- Hosea went to Yale and was/is in the Skull and Bones Society. "Tapping" is how they nominate new members.  
> \- The fellows at these parties wear green carnations in their lapels to indicate if they're open to being tapped.  
> \- Hosea is in his thirties here, Trelawny and Dutch are in their twenties.  
> \- Dutch is around 6'5" (196 cm).
> 
> Hopefully that fills you in. If you have questions, feel free to ask. Kudos and comments are always appreciated!

Well, the place is hopping tonight. A fine turnout.

Everything is set, just so. After so many iterations of this get together, he would hope that things would go smoothly. Refreshments are set, punch is strong but not too strong for the ladies in attendance, and everyone is beautiful in the light of the chandeliers.

Josiah smiles, in that way he does, and he feels like mirroring it.

"Are you ready, my young friend?" He says.

"Certainly," he grins.

He carefully straightens Josiah's bowtie, lingering briefly on the fresh youth of his face, and tousles his hair, just so, just enough, and then taps him.

Josiah smiles, a little fonder, and caresses his cheek. Even through gloves, Hosea can feel the genteel softness of Josiah's hands, can feel all that manicuring work he does to keep them smooth. Josiah taps him as well.

Their eyes meet, simmer along with the anticipation of the evening, and then he turns out, ready to do the rest.

There's Emile -- he'll get a tap. Emile was so robust, his hands so kind despite their callouses, his smile so wide. They share a smile when Hosea comes away from him.

Victor, of course, who was so bright on the uptake, so inventive when he needed to be. He laughs in his conversation, out of step with the rest, as Hosea moves past him.

And then there's a very large gentleman, apparently new. Dark romantic curls skim his neck, over a well-fit suit.

The thought's hardly voluntary, but he thinks about Dutch -- ever so large, so charming he had wooed Susan, love-hardened Susan. Very kind, with bright inquisitive eyes and a nice smile.

There was something pleasant about the idea of Dutch, bent over him, those plush lips grazing his collarbone, pushing deep. But he was straight, and in a relationship aside.

But no one came here if they were _just_  straight, so he taps the shoulder of the big man, and passes on.

Until-

"Mister Matthews?"

Oh _no._

He spins, and his suspicions are proven correct. It really _was_ Dutch, bright and radiant in a new suit, a charming violet bowtie around his neck. His dark hair is parted at the side, the elegant curls touched with macassar and falling in darling tresses around his cheeks.

He's _stunningly_ handsome.

"Mister Van Der Linde?" he posits, voice cracking.

A slow, charming smile spreads across the man's face. "I didn't think I'd see you tonight!"

Oh god. This was never- the plan. Who gave him an invitation? Who told him about the function?

"No, I didn't either -- what are you doing here? You know this is a private occasion?" He stutters.

Josiah is beside him in an instant, keeping close.

"Oh, it is?" Dutch says, laughing, "Susan said there was a party I might be interested in, wouldn't let me say no."

Susan. Yes, they'd given her a ticket. She must have given it to Dutch.

He was going to have to speak to her -- but... but no, he couldn't speak to her, not really. What would he say?

"So here I am," Dutch continues, that smile still charming and warm, "Nice party. Lots of lovely folk."

He looks around at- well, everyone, but mostly the ladies. You know -- the sapphics. Most of their numbers weren't the type who loved men as well. And Dutch was about as man as they get, even with his kind nature.

"Oh, well, thank you," Hosea laughs, "You- haven't said anything to the women here, have you?"

"Not yet, no. Nothing more than greetings."

Josiah interrupts, "You tapped him, ah, angel?"

Hosea's cheeks heat. He wants to shut Josiah up and bustle him away, rather than answer the inevitable question that would follow-

"Tapped?" Dutch asks, his eyes narrowing, glance drifting to Josiah, whose arm is around Hosea's waist.

"Oh sure," he laughs, "It's a thing we used to do at Yale."

Keeping it vague won't do much, not for a man who seemed to catch every detail. Still, he can hope.

"What for?"

"Over there, it's club membership" -- and one of a lifetime, that's for sure, the Bonesmen -- "here it's... invitations to an afterparty."

Yes. An afterparty. That was a word for what they did, bringing charming men back to a special room all set up for their pleasures, full of pillows and mattresses strewn about a luxurious bedroom, and have a romp with them all. The last time they had brought bottles of champagne that never got finished and Hosea himself had ended up doused in the stuff as other men drank it off him.

If Dutch was there -- broad and charming, with his mouth and those eyes that took in everything, those sturdy hips, those forearms -- drinking champagne off his skin...

No.

No, Dutch was straight, and monogamous, and in a relationship with his close friend. No. He wasn't available for even idle thoughts.

"Sorry, dear, I thought you were someone else," and that is true, he had hoped it was just a facsimile of Dutch, so there could be no awkwardness, "So I'll have to rescind."

"Why can't I come?" Dutch pouts, sounding rueful, "An afterparty sounds fun."

"It's a-" Oh god, how to talk around it, "It's for business!"

And it is, sort of, anyway. Building these relations with these folks... it is business. Just business mixed with pleasure.

"I'm part of the business."

"You aren't part of _this_  business, Dutchy," Josiah interjects.

Dutch pouts more. He wants to -- smooth it over, to not disappoint the man as much.

"It's a bit like a symposium!" he starts, and immediately regretting it as images of the "symposia" he had in his university years flit by. Hopefully, though, Dutch imagines the rather more sterile, traditional version. "Lots of... lots of things unsuitable for someone your age."

"Trelawny's younger than I am," he rebukes, looking more and more disappointed by the minute.

"Trelawny's my partner, even if he's young." He reaches up to pat the lapel of his suit and smiles apologetically. "Sorry, Pieter, I can't have you coming to this. It's not your milieu."

"You're rescinding a tap, then?" Josiah says, suddenly, with a smile.

"Yes, I am- Oh no."

"Oh yes." Josiah grins. "You know the penalty for rescinding a tap."

He certainly does.

They put it in place to avoid hurting anyone by pulling it away. It made them more choosy, more certain they had to pick exactly who they wanted.

It was also exceptionally embarrassing. He'd laughed at the image of either of them doing it when Trelawny laid the plan.

He sighs. Well, alright.

Hosea gestures Dutch down, and he stoops readily, the disappointment (and even anger?) on his face disappearing in an instant.

And very carefully, as per the agreement, he presses a small kiss to Dutch's jaw.

"There, that's half then," he says, regretting that look on Dutch's face so much. He's disgusted -- absolutely disgusted. He shoots a look to Trelawny, who smiles wide at their discomfort. "I'll be back soon," he spits, "Just have to go prepare the other half of the forfeit."

Dutch barely mumbles "okay" with the shock of being kissed by another man. He'll only hate Hosea more if he sees the next part of it all.

"You know, it's getting late, why don't you go home for the night, ah?" He stutters, carefully smoothing the lapels of Dutch's suit jacket, "Take a cab home and tuck into bed?"

Dutch, staring at him, mumbles "Sure."

He nods his head, waving to them, and then grabs Bessie and Sarah off the dance floor to get them to help.

"Oh, a forfeit!" Bessie giggles. Sarah, behind her, looks lovely as always. "I've been looking forward to this one."

"You're quite lucky I had an old corset lying around," Sarah says, a small smile on her handsome face.

"Yes, if we should all be so lucky," he groans, entering into the dressing room just off the hall.

Bessie swings Sarah around in a joyful dance, quipping at him, "We're playing dress-up, Shea."

He sighs, and strips off his jacket, laying it on the valet chair.

"Here, I'll get the corset," Sarah says, "Do you want a chemise?"

"No, I think the dress is too sheer for that. Plus that corset's coming off right after this whole rigmarole."

"I'll get the other bits!" Bessie giggles.

He strips, carefully laying down the rest of his clothes.

"I must say," Sarah says, when he's completely nude except a pair of silk stockings he slipped on, "you're built quite well."

She reaches around his back with the corset, doing up the busk in front.

"Imagine if the general public caught you and I doing this. What an uproar there would be, me nude except for your old corset, dear."

"What a riot," Sarah deadpans, a smile creeping across her face.

"Indeed."

Sarah tugs gently at the laces in the back, starting at the hips.

"We will have to lace you quite tight..." Sarah muses as Bessie collects the garments for Queen Mab. "...Are you alright, Hosea?"

He wonders if he should really say. But Sarah -- well, Sarah had this comportment, this quiet trustworthiness. He had never heard a single word about what Bessie was like as a lover, never knew the secrets the two shared in confidence -- not that there was much he didn't know about Bessie. _She_  loved to share.

"I suppose I don't really want to go through with it."

"Sure," she says, tugging firmly on the laces, "But isn't that the point? And I hardly doubt anyone out there will be anything but appreciative."

"... Pieter might."

"Pieter? Oh, yes. Your friend."

He sighs, dropping his head to the side and closing his eyes. "Yes. He's -- bound to be disgusted by all this. You should have seen the look on his face -- being kissed by a man when you're heterosexual like that -- I'm surprised he didn't just slap me to the floor then."

Sarah hums as she tugs the corset tighter and tighter. "And that bothers you? You've never been bothered by heterosexuals before."

"No but..." Hosea shuts his mouth, suddenly coming to the realization himself: "No, but I like him. I think I really like him."

Bessie wheels around, a big slapdash grin on her face. "Shea, oh my god!" She shrieks, bouncing over to him.

"Bess..."

"Shea, oh my goodness, you haven't said that in such a long time, lovely! Oh wow, you and that tall fellow, huh?" Sarah quickly wraps the lacing around his waist, which is now cinched quite tight, and ties a bow behind. Bessie swings him onto the valet where she eagerly prepares his slippers.

"Sure, sure. Pieter and I, a well matched pair -- a sap and the man who finds him disgusting."

"Why do you keep saying he's disgusted, Shea?" Bessie says, furrowing her brow as she helps his feet into the particularly long dancing slippers they had to make for him.

"You weren't looking when I had to kiss him -- I've never seen the kind of expression on someone's face. Like I rendered him catatonic!" He laughs, bitterly, "But he's so charming, and I do really like him. I would hate to lose his friendship."

"Hosea," Sarah says, now leaning over him with a small pot of powder, which she dusts onto his nose and cheeks, "I was watching when you did that. I don't think that expression was disgust."

"It most certainly was," he sighs, petulantly.

"It wasn't, I can assure you."

She gently coats his eyelashes with petroleum jelly, leaving them standing quite stiff. Then she starts in on painting a thin line of dark powder just above his eyelashes.

"Why don't you take my word for it -- when you go out there, really watch his reaction. Watch it without your ideas that he'll hate you." Sarah dabs his lips with a poppy petal, imparting its color there.

Sarah smiles down at him, and he has to sigh. Somehow -- tentatively, even scared like this -- he trusts her.

"And if he [is] rude to you as a result, I get to wallop him!" Bessie cheers from his feet, lifting an arm into the air.

He laughs as the two women help him stand again.

"See, Bess, even like this, he's quite pretty." Sarah stands back, leaning her chin on her hand and smiling.

"My husband always has been so dashing," she says, mimicking Sarah's pose exactly.

He laughs and holds his arms out for the next layer. Bessie hands him a petticoat of thin creamy-colored taffeta before Sarah starts to drape the overlayers of fine chiffon over it all.

"Do you want the wig, Shea?" Bessie asks, bringing it over.

"I think he's looking radiant as is, Beloved," Sarah chimes from his waist.

Bessie backs up, and appraises him, now swathed in the lovely chiffon gown, decolletage boldly revealed. It's showy, theatrical, maybe even bawdy, but Sarah just smiles and says, "It's perfect."

"Well, Queen Mab is ready, I suppose," he says, swaying gently as he opens the door back out to the hall.

The throngs feel... less powerful, dressed like this, taking the space for the ethereal train and his elegant stature -- they part when they see him, smiles on every face. Bessie and Sarah, escorting him, help too.

He gets up onto the stage where the musicians are, and they all smile at him too. They know him, and trust whatever he's about to do. Quietly, they end the number.

He looks over the crowd -- and it's easy to spot Dutch, who is still there, violet bowtie and all, those lovely curls still in place, towering over everyone.

Well. It would be fine.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, esteemed guests!" He calls, the crowd falling bemusedly silent, "I appear to you now, the arbiter of good nights and joyful, cheerful throng, your delighted host, the Fairy Queen Matthews."

Dutch is watching him, unblinkingly, mouth open. He wants to say "disgust" -- but he keeps Sarah's words in mind.

"Due to a grievous mistake, I've wounded an attendant of our lovely evening, and must now repay with the form you see before you," he laughs, gesturing down. The crowd titters until he holds his hand out in Dutch's direction. "And I owe him a dance, in return."

Hosea descends the stage once more, the other guests making room, a circle of space for them to dance in. Bessie, and a few other of her lady friends, are pushing Dutch into the circle -- but he's not resisting them, just staring wide eyed, open mouthed still.

"Sorry, dear," he says, when they're close enough for private conversation, "Part of it all-"

"You look beautiful," Pieter breathes.

A loopy grin inadvertently cracks along his face, and when the music starts -- a coy waltz -- he settles Pieter's big hand on his waist, slipping the others together.

"I don't- know how to dance," Pieter whispers, panicked but smiling.

He laughs, starting to pat out the beat on his broad shoulder. "Just follow me, just step in time. You'll be fine."

They step and sway together, the rustle of his skirts accompaniment to the music.

It's easy to dance with Pieter. And even if it's not formal, even if it's very loose and silly, it's wonderfully fun.

"I mean it, Hosea, you look magnificent in that." Pieter says, twirling Hosea beneath his arm.

"Thank you, dear," he giggles, spinning delightedly.

"Not that you looked bad before, though. You're always so handsome."

Pieter's grin is spread ear to ear, a little mischievous and a little silly even, and guides his arm back so their faces are inches -- mere inches apart.

If the crowd titters, faux-scandalized at the closeness, Hosea doesn't notice. Because to him, it's only the music, and Pieter, so dashing and roguish. And something that suddenly feels safer, less scary.

That closeness makes Hosea's soul _sing._

Still, he pulls away, coquet-ish in his own right, a man known for his smiling hard-to-get act. Pieter follows, smiling, like a joyous fool.

The song they had prepared for the dance is short. It had been a safeguard, make sure it didn't get awkward or anything. But now, here, with Pieter's hand radiating warmth even through the corset -- he wishes the song were much longer.

They have to part, however regretfully.

But Pieter's fingers linger, tracing the contour of his arm, caressing the turn of his wrist, the sensitive skin of his pulse.

Hosea smiles, trying to disguise the hitch in his heartbeat.

Pieter dips low to him, and says, "My lady, Queen Matthews."


End file.
